Obscuram per Obscurios
by TheLions'PaleProtector
Summary: It was in the final battle that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Grief-stricken, she took on hell itself trying to him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Complete. HGSS
1. Chapter 1

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle, separated from her friends and scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermone, loving the dark hero. Rated for the M action that's yet to come- no pun intended.

**A/N: **The title is Latin for 'The obscure by means of the more obscure.' It fit the story and way it came about, so it seemed perfect. What's possibly the longest 'songfic' ever started out listening to 'If you're Gone' by Matchbox 20. For some reason my favorite HP 'verse pairing popped into my head and, randomly pondering alternate meanings to the lyrics, I not only came up with an idea for another story, but a possible solution to the problem on Snape's death in the last book. So I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Skohl!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**Chapter One**

I think I've already lost you

I think you're already gone

I think I'm finally scared now

You think I'm weak- I think you're wrong

It was fitting that the day was overcast, smog thick in the air and a light drizzle upon their heads. It would've just felt wrong if it had been a clear sunny day with so many dead or gravely wounded. Not that the air would've stayed clear for long with all the hexes zinging about. Hermione shivered in the chilly air. Like the rest of them, she lost all sense of time and place long ago.

Feeling like the world was moving around her in slow motion, she trudged across the clearing with wand clutched tightly in hand and an eye peeled for danger. Or for her friends, who she'd lost along the way. It was amazing how fast one could get to that place in their head [that numb state] where the sights, sounds, even smells of death stopped registering. Curse or be cursed became the mantra in your head when you first woke up in the morning. The motto when the toll of killing got too rough.

Once it was barely enough to keep one together, to save their sanity in the moment after muttering _the_ unforgivable, when the body hit the ground cold and reality sunk in. Because even after facing loss a dozen times over, nothing could prepare you for that. But now it was second nature. Bleakly she thought back on a quote she'd once read: 'Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.' And it was true…

Before it had seemed inspirational, motivation for change… to 'soldier on' passed the trauma of their everyday lives as Harry had to do, remember death was part of life and instead strive to never suffer that greatest loss, the loss of self… These days, like much she'd idealistically soaked in or took to heart over the years, it was just cold fact- depressing because she now knew exactly what they meant.

Hearing a sharp noise behind her, she spun around in a blink, wand ever ready and glowing with magic, body tense- only to realize it'd just been a branch from a skeletal tree. With a nervous laugh, she tried forcing herself to relax enough to continue scouting. The Death Eater ranks were certainly thinning, as theirs were, but enough remained to serve their master and strike fear into the hearts of 'Dumbledore's Army.'

So many young souls, so many unprepared for the horrors they faced, especially once the Dark Lord released his horde of wicked beasties such as Fenir's werewolves… she trembled as a chink fell from her armor, leaning against a nearby [scorched] oak for support as her free hand fisted in the tangled mass of curls atop her head. Seamus and Dean, poor silly Lavender and Cho… then Severus disappearance mid-mission that might be more…

She let out a ragged breath and allowed a tremulous smile to touch her lips. He'd probably zap her on the spot if he knew how freely she used his given name in her head. If he was able. The smile fell as she remembered Harry's dream [she refused to say vision on this one] of the man's death. He got so much slack from those who didn't truly know, much less understand, him… that had turned to hate and murderous intent after Dumbledore's death. Angry and vengeful with no outlet for the violence tearing them up inside, they couldn't understand it was a sacrifice as well as a mercy.

But how could they have known of the bond the two shared, the Headmaster's slow and painful impending death via poison and his plea to Snape? They certainly hadn't appreciated the assertion he'd saved another life with that act as well- because that life was Malfoy. Harry, who'd come to a quiet [grudging] respect and understanding for Snape beforehand, hadn't even wanted to see the facts after he'd unwittingly blurted them out himself. Like about the poison, and the obvious bond, and that Dumbledore had seemed to know what was going to happen and had put him in a full body bind before confronting Draco then Severus…

Stubborn idiots. But maybe I'd just been clearer to her because while she knew emotion could blindside a person, she'd always been more fact-oriented and 'coldly logical.' Would the spy have continued withdrawing/hiding as he had and taken that suicide mission if everyone hadn't been so… against him? Tears pricked Hermione's eyelids. But maybe it was all the smoke in the air. He gave everything for students he seemed to care nothing for, and a cause he only half-believed in who couldn't know of his danger and heroism, and if he died alone and mistreated…

That brilliant, snarky, wonderful man… She took a deep breath. If it was the last thing she did, she'd make sure he got the acknowledgment he deserved. She'd gladly take whatever she had coming for the sins she's committed if she got one last chance to tell him what he meant to her, rather, to all of them. Biting her lip as a sad, desperate feeling welled in her heart, she scrubbed one hand over her pale, ashy face. She needed to find him. Alive, hopefully. She'd made a promise to herself. And if there was still time...

As that thought solidified in her mind, a shrill noise pierced the air, and the still of the ominous looking battlefield erupted into activity. The Shrieking Shack. Of course. She ran with all the strength she had in her legs. Harry and Ron were already there when she got there, surprisingly enough. She didn't stop to wonder how. "Voldemort?" she panted with anticipation and trepidation as she reached the decimated Whomping Willow. "Already left," the Boy-Who-Lived supplied grimly with a tick in his jaw. "We arrived too late."

"Snape?" she ventured a tick later, heart stilling as if afraid to hope. The two boys exchanged a long look that made the bottom drop out of her stomach. "Mione'…" Ron began hesitantly, almost hopelessly, not meeting her eyes. Whatever breath she'd gathered whooshed right back out of her. "He was gone when I got here." A slow, painful thump in her chest. Though before the light of optimism could touch her eyes, Harry took off where his friend failed, both somehow sensing the importance and not understanding but not wanting to hurt her with either the truth or the crushed hope later on.

"He's… been… struck down, Hermione. Before I even arrived," the brunette added quickly, half-afraid of her reaction, "But he was able to impart some information… and memories to clear him…before…" He didn't need to go on. He could tell by the dawning awareness on his long-time friend's face she was beginning to get it. Or he so he thought. "And you just left him there?" she whispered harshly, a chill running down her spine… and subsequently theirs at her expression. "He was bitten! By Nagini! He had no chance!" Rob blurted defensively, startled.

"You too!" she hissed, turning on him. "He was a Slytherin. The youngest Potions Master in _generations_. It didn't occur to you he'd been building immunity for _years_ against such trivial things, especially knowing the perils of his work and Voldemort's instability? Whoever Nagini's master, she was nevertheless a _snake_! Or didn't you think Snape had the intelligence to consider this possibility?" Her tone was deathly quiet, low and measured. Dangerous. The pair winced.

"No, but-well- Hermione, I was there! There was nothing we could do. The problem was obvious, but still I tested for outside spells," Harry broached carefully. "Spells," she spat out, "What great _lengths_ you went through. I see your debt has been _far _repaid." She gave them a sneer that would've made Severus proud. "Did you even _think _to test for other causes… say _potions?" _"I couldn't just- there's no time to- I _have_ to find Voldemort! I _must_ end this! We can't delay- who knows what more havoc could be wrought if we do!" The redhead agreed silently. "We _need_ you, Mione', come with us. There's nothing more we can do here."

She took a step back slowly, then another, shaking her head and looking at them aghast, like she's never saw them before and they just jumped up and slapped her. "No! No. I won't just abandon him! We'd all be dead several times over if it weren't for him! He deserves more than this." Her expression became one of disgust as they pleaded their case, taking another step back, tinged with fury as Ron let something slip about 'seeing reason'. "You two leave if you must, I see you've done your part- as usual. Now I need to do what _I_ must. I need to see for myself what _you've_ deemed obvious."

Silently she dared them to tell her it was beyond her capabilities so she could let loose again. Wisely, for once, they kept their mouths shut. Whether out of fear, shame, or finally realizing _nothing_ was beyond her capabilities. With fierce determination that radiated from her rigid stance, she gave them one last look, pressing the knot and running inside before she could see them turn their backs to her and her beliefs. She'd given up begging them for understanding. _That_ Hermione was gone.

Yet she was shaking as she climbed the stairs. But when she stepped into the room to see the dreadful disrepair [uncommon since it'd been fixed up as a hide-out before the war], and an all too familiar black-clad form collapsed to the floor in a disjointed position, she nearly broke down on the spot. No. it was a chant and a prayer as she flew to his side on wobbly legs, even her heart and lungs refusing to work properly. Despite her terror of what she'd see, her sense of honor and… who was she kidding?

Her frantic desires wouldn't let her hold back. Going straight through the debris like it didn't exist, her knees gave out only when she'd reached him. Staring helplessly for a stretch, trying to steel herself, she grasped one icy hand. 'So still. So cold.' She thought she felt a tremor run into her hand from his, heard a low keening, and wondered it was just her imagination. But when turned his head her way with two fingers, barely noting the pallor before the murmured "Experiorus", a scream split the skies. Then everything went black and she was somewhere else…

**A/N: **That's it, what do you think?Reviews would be lovely. It's sad writing if nobody tell you what they think of it, lol. This would probably be my longest piece of fiction ever, filling up one and a half notebooks and twenty pages on Microsoft Word. Completed, but still being pieced off into chapters and final edits being made. Experiorus, from my notes, basically means 'status' or 'check'- so I figure would make a good diagnostic kind of spell for Hermione to use checking on Severus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I've pretty much finished typing and am doing final edits and uploads page by page, so should be updating regularly [20 pages/ chapters in total]. Any Latin phrase translations will be at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter Two**

I think you're already leaving

Feels like your hand is on the door

I thought this place was an empire

Now I'm relaxed- I can't be sure.

'Anima… Animus… Corpus. Alter… epse… amicus….' The ghostly words filtered through the warm, salty sea of color and shadows where she floated, the blinding pain that had shattered her skull seeming further and further away. She didn't know where they came from, or who spoke them, or even if they hadn't just poured from her soul. But they rang with great power, confidence, rolling over on a low growl not unlike thunder. Disseminating through her like a fine wine, they overtook her, accompanied by a strange tugging sensation then she was spilling out… forward…. Somewhere.

It was like being born, or so she imagined. A strange, unbelievable force came over her, cradled her and fused with her at once, lifted her up… and up… and up. Now glowing, golden eyes were raised to the ceiling. Her mind was blown wide, sensations beyond her reckoning bursting forth, and it was like she was shrinking… then growing, reality shaping around her. Or maybe her view was just being expanded, her ideas of creation at large reforming to be… more than she ever could have imagined, with a lifetime of learning. Or _she_ was more.

So much power… knowledge… insight… feeling. It was inside her, the whole _universe_ open to her like a book. And it was _amazing_. Overwhelming. Then in a blink the view narrowed [making her realize more than ever how much was out there she didn't know], and before the sadness and loss could hit, she was connected to Ron and Harry both. Completely. At first it seemed a tight squeeze, like trying to crawl through a rabbit hole, then reality rippled again and everything was synced. In essence she _was _them, and they were her, as they faced their enemy as one.

"Destroy the source and his design will follow," the three-fold souls rasped aloud, their wand[s] pointed and sparking. The booming quality of even that whisper in the voice of power commanded fear and respect. Apparently even in the Dark Lord. Blood roared in their ears, drowning out the sound of His hideous shriek and the curse it carried. But it didn't matter. They lifted a hand with a positively wicked grin, the death curse hitting them square in the forehead and being absorbed in a flash of brilliant green light.

Something deep within recoiled, contracted and withered excruciatingly [the piece of Voldemort inside Harry?] but they marched on. Whether this was 'the force He knew not' or no, the Scourge's ticket was long since up. His Horcruxes were gone, his army devastated, scattered, and he had no chance. 'No AK for you,' the dominant part that was Hermione thought, coldly satisfied. 'We require something much more painful. And permanent.'

In their combined conscious, they intoned: 'Lure divino conjunctus viribus, libera nos a malo de plaggaum mortiferum infilgere. Ad aeteurnum." An explosive wave of magic washed over the entire battlefield with a rumbling that drowned out the Dark Lords' screams, and those of a few of his closest allies who were touched by their incantation. "Contra nequitiam abyssus qui ad perditionem animarum." And they collapsed together. It was over.

Weakly the young witch clung to the body of her fallen professor, sobs wracking her petite frame. Was this the price of victory? Hogwarts all but annihilated, a shell of its former self as were they all, and hundreds [thousands?] dead, including the one who most deserved to be here- who most _mattered_? A shudder broke free when she turned her face, seeking comfort, and her nose touched the arctic skin of Severus's neck. The very wrongness of it broke her heart.

A fresh, desperate shower of tears trickled down as her hand slid over his unbeating heart, a glow emitting with a silent, wandless warming charm. "You once told me there is no evil without something good, to be patient and tough because someday the pain will be useful to me. Where is the use now? Who will be there to guide me?" She, of course, received no answer and knew well her foolishness in half expecting one. "'The die has been cast,'" she quoted bitterly in remembrance.

That one phrase, sounding very unlike him, had shaken them all since it followed Harry out of nightmare, thrashing, panic-struck and glassy-eyed. "Shall we all just give up then, surrender to the cruel hand of Fate? Is there no point in fighting, as it's all been written for us? I'm so through being a puppet, a pawn in someone else's game, powerless to change anything," Hermione seethed, unaware of the invisible breeze lifting her hair, energy crackling around her.

She ran her hands over his chest, loosely tracing where the huge radius of the bite, dozens of marks from rows and rows of sharp teeth, looking corroded and smeared with dried black ooze. Narrowing her eyes, she examined further using her magic and all of her senses. The knowledge Snape had given her had indeed been priceless. In addition to suffering that awful bite, he'd been… infected with the Draught of Living Death. It must've taken over his system and destroyed him in his weakened condition. Which was most likely what his former master had intended.

"What irony were Ron and Harry's parting words, that if a dark magic had claimed you, it was probably one only you had the power to reverse. First year you said with the study of Potions you could brew glory, stopper death. I think your lessons fell short of that promise." A short, fanatical laugh escaped her, choked by grief, fond eyes running over the drawn, pale features she knew so well. Her hands tightened on his long-fingered ones, as if attempting to press life back into them.

How she'd greedily, covetously sought his company and thrilled in the fact that in his own way he made himself available to her! She didn't care if it was just that she'd stuck by his side, or some crazy impulse he couldn't explain. He was what allowed her to bolster on in spite of all else. Now it was vanishing right in front of her. She'd loved Harry and Ron like brothers, but even with all they'd gone through together they were just… well, boys. What did she have in common with them outside the history of mischief and unexpected adventures?

They laughed at her hunger for learning, her love of books and philosophy- they didn't get her on a deeper level. And part of her knew but didn't fully want to recognize that they'd taken her for granted, at times saw her as a nag or mother-hen. She couldn't exactly call Severus Snape a friend, no doubt all he'd ever seen was 'an insufferable know-it-all', but _he _got it. A kindred soul almost. If circumstances had been any different… Hermione shook her head. Had he ever even felt true friendship, or trust, or peace?

He didn't really seem the type to sit and chat over tea, whatever closeness he'd had with McGonagall and Dumbledore. Though her over-active imagination easily supplied the picture- a warm fire, a rare half-smile on his face, obsidian eyes sparkling with silent laughter, his smooth, silky voice informing her why asphodel simply wouldn't work in a calming drought… 'Pathetic, Granger,' she chided herself. 'The wizarding world suffered a great loss today, more so in this moment, and you're mooning over what could've been... in another life. In another universe.'

She keenly felt it, along with a deeper ache because all her so-called intelligence couldn't bring him back. Stroking a slim hand down a cheek like silvered marble, she bent to brush a kiss across his unyielding lips. "Benedictum cor eius sacratissimum. Infinitum et perfectissimum et bonum." A Catholic's prayer and blessing that strangely no longer brought her comfort. But as she leaned over him with one hand on his cheek and the other still clutching his wrist, preparing to leave, the Gryffindor suddenly felt a sluggish beat.

Her eyes flew wide open and everything inside her flared brilliantly to life. He wasn't quite dead after all. But near enough. "Oh God," she sobbed, distressed ad she leapt up. This whole time he'd been alive, life bleeding out of him even as Harry and Ron urged her to give up and desert him as they had, that he'd had _no _chance. And she'd just been weeping and mourning like a lost child this whole time. Was all hope yet gone? She prayed not exuberance tapered by the horrifying uncertainty, she clung to the ebbing tide of ancient magic that had so recently been used to destroy.

And she begged in the language of olde for indulgence in this moment of death, to stay the hand of fate from his mortal thread. He still had purpose in this life. He was owed another chance. Time. She needed time. Swallowing hard, she felt it pulse inside her stronger in response, and she nearly fainted in relief. 'Later,' she promised herself. When his life wasn't in her hands. Hopefully her mentor in the healing arts, Madame Pomphrey, would be able to save him where she failed with her mediocre healing skill. If there was any justice left in the world. She could. Holding onto the magic tightly, she used it to apparate with him to the medical ward of the castle.

**A/N: **The translation of the 'spell' used to destroy Voldemort, is as follows… 'By divine law, with united powers, deliver us from this evil by violent murder. Cast into hell all evil spirits who seek the ruin of souls.' Creative, right? Lol. I took half of it from a traditional Catholic Prayer- I figured if the shoe fits, run with it, as simple as it seems.

The words she whispers over Severus's corpse? 'Blessed be his most sacred heart. Infinite and perfect and good.' Again, taken from a Catholic prayer. Not my chosen religion, but most of them are in Latin, and it was the first result I got searching for stuff to use for the spells.


	3. Chapter 3

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I've pretty much finished typing and am doing final edits and uploads page by page, so should be updating regularly [20 pages/11 chapters in total]. Any Latin phrase translations will be at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter Three**

And I think you're so mean- I think we should try

I think I could need this in my life

I think I'm scared I think too much

I know it's wrong, it's a problem I'm dealing if you're gone

As each visitor/mourner came in and out of his hospital room over the last few days Hermione had gotten more and more tense, distant, despondent. They'd given up all hope. Pomona and the half-dozen other 'consults' she'd called said it was a miracle there was still even a pulse and he'd been given that long… that the extent of their magic wasn't able to save someone 'from the hands of Fate'. Their stumbling, awkward apologies and condolences made her sick. Snarling, she'd just sent them away with veiled threats. Useless. All these resources and they had _nothing_?

If Dumbledore had been here… She immediately broke that chain of thought as more grief swamped her. No use living in the past, right? Except Severus wasn't passed. A knock at the door had her spinning around, prepared to dole out a stinging curse. "I swear Harry, if you and Ron came back to offer your half- hearted wishes or get me to leave, I'll hex your bollocks off!" "Hey hey hey, settle down, I come in peace. And I promise I'm not Scarhead or the Weasel." With narrowed eyes she watched Draco Malfoy came through with hands up in a placating, defensive position.

"Oh, it's you," she scowled, brushing back the messy autumn-colored tresses she'd idly been playing with. "What're you doing here?" The platinum blonde icily raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry _Queen _Granger, I didn't know you had a monopoly on this end of the building. Is there some embargo I'm violating by coming to see my Godfather?" He rolled his eyes at her look. "Believe me, it pains me just as greatly, if not more, to see everyone just give up on him if there's even a single breath left in his body. He looked out for me growing up. He saved me in more ways than I could ever count, like when he took crazy Aunt Bella's oath."

The older wizard sighed with frustration, running a hand through perfectly groomed hair. "It nearly killed him to do that to Dumbledore, even if it spared the old man suffering… But I digress. Listen, I loved and admired the hell out of Sev too. I'd do anything to help him if only I could- including sacrificing my own miserable life. Unfortunately, I'm out of options. You, however, might be able to get further than any of us. That's why I brought you something." Her head jerked up and she stared at him with surprise and confusion, wondering at this side of him she'd never seen.

Then as soon as she rolled the words over in her mind, she paused with a squeak. "Wait… loved, _too_? What do you- I don't love Sev-Snape! That's ridiculous! Why would I? He's my professor, not to mention a whole 20 years older than me and-" Draco laughed, cutting her off. "A snarky, evil git? Come on, we both know that's a crock. And I'm pretty sure with the war and all the time off finding a way to kill Ol' Moldy Warts, school is over. Though even if it weren't, you're of age and thirty-nine isn't exactly ancient, especially in the wizarding world where the average life-span is about 3 times higher than a Muggles'."

He shook his head. "As for the other- you went all 'higher power' on us, invoking ancient magic, you haven't left his side, barely eat, and you're trying to say you don't love him?" To punctuate his statement, her stomach complained and she cursed it. Glaring into those pewter eyes, she tried to list off why she didn't, couldn't, love the former spy and knew he wasn't buying it. Her and Snape? He'd tormented her for years, gotten under her skin, driven her completely batty, though recently he'd been rather indulgent of her and she missed his strong presence…

And of course she'd be worried about him and try her best to save him, he'd done no less for them! But that didn't equal love! Neither did her the dreams and the thrill she got each time she said something that made his eyes sparkle as he almost-smiled… Or her maddened craze when she'd found him in the grips of death… Oh God, maybe he was right. Did she love Severus Snape, bane of students everywhere? She could almost see Malfoy sighing 'Gryffindors' exasperatedly. "Look," he said gently, which seemed odd coming from him, "I thought there might be something even remotely useful in this book, so I filched it from my fathers' Private Collection. Merlin only knows he's not going to be needing it anymore. Send an elf for me if you find anything."

Malfoy… Draco... set the worn leather-bound volume beside her on the table, and she was about to tell him she had no use for something possibly containing dark magic when she saw the spidery scrawl of the title glow. "Thank you," she said simply instead, curiosity getting the better of her. "Though something tells me we don't have very long left. The laws of nature are fickle." Her eyes filled and she squeezed them shut to avoid the downfall. The Slytherin boy just put a hand on hers in a show of shared pain and support, then he was gone. Leaving her alone with the book and the Potion Masters' still figure. "What do I do?" she whispered grievously.

With anti-venoms out and all the mediwizards charms fizzling out, what _could _she do? The Draught of the Living Death laced the wounds, preventing them from being healed as well as shutting down and infecting his system- and the resident expert was the one under its' influence! She let out an aggravated growl. They've already tried brews that cleansed, detoxed, and transfused the blood, on top of a lot of replenishing potion… tinctures to invigorate and revive, etc etc. But suddenly the tome next to her jolted and flew into her lap, pages fluttering madly as if possessed.

Draco's book. Could the answer be in _there_? What could possibly lie in the depths of a Death Eaters' manuscript that could help them? Achingly aware of their lack of options, she hesitantly picked up the enchanted object. And thirty minutes later she had an answer. Greek philosopher Teitullanus once wrote 'I believe in it because it is absurd. It is certain because it is impossible.' She prayed he was right. She was about to stake her very existence on it. Was it a sacrifice she was ready and willing to make? It didn't take her long at all to decide. For Severus, yes.

He was a great man, and he needed her. Now she desperately needed to believe that love, if that's what it was [rather than a schoolgirl's crush or a friends' fondness], was the essence of life and that it truly _did _conquer all. That even death fled from it. This magic hinged on that belief. 'Mens agitat molem,' Hermione told herself. The mind moves the matter. Think and therefore it is. In a tone brooking no argument, she released a breath she hadn't known she held and summoned her friends. "Here's the plan…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I've pretty much finished typing and am doing final edits and uploads page by page, so should be updating regularly [20 pages/11 chapters in total]. Any Latin phrase translations will be at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter Four**

If you're gone- maybe it's time to come home

There's an awful lot of breathing room

But I can hardly move

"You sure this is what you want to do, Mione'?" Ron asked in a hushed voice, his tone suggesting concern and fear for her sanity. "I mean, this _is _Snape we're talking about. And it's not like it's reversible or a trivial matter like giving away your favorite broom, this is very strong, unstable magic you're dealing with. It's your _life_. For someone who probably won't even appreciate it. For all we know, he might've wanted to-" "You finish that sentence Ronald Weasley and I'm going to break your teeth, boil your tongue, and a long list of other far more gruesome things so you don't say another word as long as you live!"

Hermione snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. "Even if all this world saw him as was just a dark, fearsome wizard who kept to himself, he has done more in even just 8 years that you will ever do in your entire life. You couldn't even _begin _to comprehend the magnitude of his worth. Don't you _dare _presume to say his life means any less because he lived in shadows and silence rather than the fringes of high society off second-hand glory as you have." She knew she was being mean now, but it was no more than he deserved. His words had enraged her and belittled the man she… cared for.

She's heard disparaging remarks from him for years [which she's always corrected him for], but never like this. She used to just think it ignorance or hot-headedness, but could he actually believe this tripe? After everything that had come to light? "You speak without thought and never bother to look under the surface. You assume he didn't appreciate life because it wasn't to your standard? What about me? Am _I _any less because I quickly get impatient with you, dislike being the center of attention and often close myself off with my books? I assure you, it may not seem much to you, but I thoroughly enjoy my life. Especially now that Voldemort's gone. Do you?"

"Well- you're- That's different!" the redhead stuttered, taken aback by her rabid defense. "If it weren't for you, we might not have made it. And you never tormented us," he said stubbornly, weakly. "If it weren't for _him_ I think you mean. He guarded us in a way nobody else could, and suffered decades of untold horrors _directly_ under You-Know-Who's nose to provide invaluable information, saving countless lives. And you act like an _ignorant _spoiled child because he doesn't treat you special because you follow Harry around and occasionally do something useful?" She started sparking again with wild magic.

"Or is it because he _dares _make you think for yourself and doesn't coddle you by holding back his distaste for stupidity or laziness? I'm doing this Ronald. And if you can't understand and put your foolishness aside, you're not who I thought you were. I'll find someone else for my circle, there can be no room for error and we have enough against us already." Like time, the severity and extent of damage, the uncertainty of her feelings and no clue for his…. And if Ronald's bigoted, almost- statement held even a modicum of truth and there was no will to live… If he'd given up the fight… No!

She shoved that blasphemous thought aside violently. Such beliefs were disastrous and counter-productive to her goal. There could be no room for doubt either. Or little room. She sighed at that. But the man she knew would fight with every scrap of being, and she had to focus on that, fight with every fiber of hers. The 19 year old boy's face darkened. "I would've done about anything for you Mione'. I used to think you were the smartest person I knew, but this whole thing is a travesty and it sets me on edge. How many people do you think you'll have behind you on this? Few to none."

His face softened, and he spoke gently to her, still trying to persuade her to his way of thinking. "I see what you're trying to do, and your gentleness and nobility were two things I admired most about you, but wake up and be reasonable. This is Snape! He's not worth it. He was a Death Eater and a nasty git, and nobody's going to miss him, least of all me! You're better than that. I love you, Hermione, I always have, I'd even hoped after this ordeal we could find our own place and share our lives together. But how could I if you just throw yours away on-" "What, Ronald? What? Throw it away on the 'greasy old dungeon bat,' as you say? Are you serious?" She scowled fiercely at him.

"You don't get it at all. If you did you'd be supporting me instead of tearing me down. But why should I be surprised. You've always been blind to anything that existed beyond your own nose. And if that's how truly you felt, you've had plenty of prime opportunities to say or do something about it before this instead of acting like a child and assuming you're always going to get your way in the end. But you know what? It's far too late. You missed out. Harry's filling your spot in the circle, and Draco potentially as a friend." With that, the amber-eyed _woman _tossed her hair and stomped off, ignoring his protests and gaping expression.

Draco and Harry had already been talking amicably in the other room when she walked in, and didn't even blink as she briefed them, apparently already aware of the ramifications and preparations for the spell. The former was calm but portrayed great anticipation and the later… still stunned and guilt-ridden Snape had truly been alive and he might've been able to do something sooner if not for his single-mindedness. He'd admitted he'd sorely underestimated the man, mistreated him even, and badly wanted to help. Unbeknownst to Hermione, they'd even discussed the meaning behind the ritual and, once the 'Golden Boy' got over the shock, how it almost made sense if she were to love him.

From the moment each of them had met her, they could see she was a very bright, inquisitive girl. Harry couldn't see just how much at that point, and Draco hadn't wanted to admit it, that a Muggleborn girl could possibly rival him for power. But they agreed that when she'd entered Snapes' classroom, his words had… enchanted her in a way none of the others had. Sparked something inside her, a hunger maybe. It was a new sort of challenge that she hadn't prepared for reviewing texts before school started, a puzzle [and Harry knew how she loved those]. Along with the habit, perhaps, of being on a teachers' good side, his disdain as he overlooked her had to have contributed to the obsession she'd formed…

Nothing more had mattered to her in those years but to gain his recognition and approval, to show that she was a witch of worth in a world where her birth was already against her by conquering… well, everything. Even those not as close to her saw it. Somewhere in that quest, obsession had turned to affection and then some. Draco mocked her about it, and even the oblivious Ron had seemed to pick up on it in the last few years… growing insanely jealous and possessive [targeting Krum because he couldn't target the professor], constantly questioning all the time spent in the dungeons, snapping more in class and verbally bashing the spy. So how could Harry ignore it?

Especially when her detentions/study sessions and extra Potions assignments with him ate further into what little time she allotted them as friends. Then there was her impassioned speech and that certain light in her eyes whenever Snape was brought up. So this act had to prove it, right? There were similar dark spells, but not for her. Her heart was pure.

And the Unitas Vinculum [bond of unity] wouldn't work under any other condition, no matter what she offered. It also had to mean there was some kind of connection on Snape's part too- she couldn't have held him to this plane otherwise.

Thoughts which still seriously squicked Harry, but better for his friend. It wasn't a task entered in lightly to petition the Higher Powers for a soul, to bestow life and cheat death. They didn't release one of theirs easily, and the ex-spy's would no doubt be a great addition to their collection. Her spirit could very well be swept away into the Veil in the process. And surely she wouldn't be so foolish as to ignore the protocol and all the risks if she wasn't positive somewhere deep inside, right? He guessed only time could tell…


	5. Chapter 5

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I've pretty much finished typing and am doing final edits and uploads page by page, so should be updating regularly [20 pages/11 chapters in total]. Any Latin phrase translations will be at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter Five**

If you're gone- baby you need to come home,

Oh come home

There's a little bit of something me

In everything in you

As Hermione jumped headfirst into the task, eyes bright and determined as she gave orders, Draco reminded her that they still needed two more people [5 points in the pentagram, a number of power]. Which posed a problem at first. Considering the very nature of what they were about to do the participants had to be both able and willing, and sadly those were in short supply. Until Headmistress Minerva McGonagall stepped forward. Silently reminding them of her years of enduring companionship and something akin to a mothers' love, their embarrassment at overlooking her was nevertheless eclipsed by relief. And Pomphrey, who was most eager with her empathy and dedication to the cause, having patched up the spy for over two decades when he was too broken to go on stubborn pride and do it himself.

Her heart still wept that she couldn't do much more than apply bandages or perform a few healing spells before, hadn't been allowed, and it only strengthened her resolve to help now. They spent the rest of that day and half of the next in the purification and gathering of energy, preparing for their great undertaking so that they were ready that eve. And lighting the candles by hand so there was no interfering magic, they invoked the elements, the four friends clasping hands in representation of heart, mind, soul and body. Hermione herself stood over the Potion Masters' body, the embodiment of all, the chalice waiting to be filled.

"Aposse ad esse," began Harry, starting the circular chant. From possibility to actuality."A priori et a posteri," Draco. From what comes before to what comes after. "Largiotte benedictus," McGonagall. Bestow your blessing."Et audi propita." Pomphrey. And answer our prayer. Hermione whispered it with them, spreading the anointing oils over herself and Severus as they did so. "Inter spem et metium, inter vivos et mortis, carnis et animus resurrectum." Between hope and fear, between living and dead, resurrect body and soul. Round again as she lit the incense and traced the sigils in the air over them. "Ad idem, generis eiusdem, intra viries in vinculus, etiam audux. Indulgentiam quaso." Of the same mind, of the same kind, in chains yet still free, indulge us.

Tears shimmered in her eyes as Hermione took a sharp-edged silver atheme by its' ornamental handle and made a cut on both her hand and the spy's. "Causa justia et misericordia, facio vitae motu propria. Dum spiro vivamus." For justice and mercy I sacrifice this life of my own will. While I still breathe, let us both live. Looping a thick, silken silver and gold chord around their joint hands, pressing wound to wound so their blood mingled, she uttered the last words of the spell herself as a hush fell. "Nose s ut unus, omnes una manet mortis. Ex animo fiati." We are as one. The same death will await us. From the heart, it is done.

A bright bluish-white band of light slowly faded into view in the smoky air, the energy rising from the circle and connecting the two on the bed. It wrapped around them like a sheaf of ribbons, and the young witch gasped as she was filled with a white-hot, explosive light. Her skin glowed as if she'd swallowed the moon and after a beat it touched the professor as well, filtering through his pale form… Then suddenly her jaw clenched as an excruciating pain sharp far than the knife hit every nerve ending hard, screaming, lungs as if crushed by stone laboring to draw air. Panic set in.

Quickly getting light-headed, she collapsed into darkness, but in doing so felt a tugging deep inside that carried her soul down with it as if sucked down into a tidal pool, ending up in the ocean. Distanced from the vibrant hell that gripped her body, she felt the embrace of the pulsing nothingness before a disseminating sense of being pulled apart, dissected, invaded. Somewhere thick as fog, black as night, a bottomless void where her conscious trembled in wait. It was a place outside of space and time, where the later ceased to exist. The minutes she'd already been there drifting aimlessly could've been hours, days, or longer.

The gods had no need for time. They were immortal and didn't care. But it mattered to her, to Severus. Even another day in his condition could seal his fate. So for both their sakes Hermione tried to remain calm, but reached out into the veil with her magic for the doorway she needed, saying a prayer. After what seemed to be a small eternity, she finally found herself being tugged in another direction and eagerly followed, hoping what she sought was there. Steeling herself, she gathered her energy to her and gave another push… and she was falling again.

Instantly it was like she was drowning, swamped by so many sensations she couldn't identify them all and gulping desperately for air before realizing the foolishness of it on the astral plane. There it was hard to tell the actuality from the fantasy, because it was all one. And she was torn by conflicting impressions as she tried to navigate the heavy water. On one hand warm and floating, in the peaceful arms of the sea with a voice telling her she could stay there, safe forever… another realizing she was slipping, stifled with the visual of dark water seeping into her lungs, killing the light, and knowing if she sank Severus did too…

Again the choice seemed easy and she jolted into motion with a strong kick, pushing herself up through the choppier waters that awaited her. But it wasn't over yet. At least she saw stars. And suddenly Hermione found herself back in the shadowy void, just on a sliver of a road this time [that she saw by some miracle of design]. Hesitantly, she took small steps, still amazed she could actually feel the pavement beneath her feet, hear the soft echo breaking the silence that was almost a noise by itself. Though after the eeriness grew on her, the strides became longer, faster, her eyes peeled for more surprises. She couldn't get over the idea of being watched, scrutinized.

And as she walked, she felt lighter again… that reaction of something expanding, a seed blossoming into a tree, a tiny caterpillar maturing into a butterfly with the wings stretching in her head, testing the limits of her mind. Her look became wondrous as her view changed with it, senses sharpened, more dropping in around her, just within her reach that she hadn't noticed before. The young witch was so dazzled she didn't even know she'd reached a plateau, a drop-off until she went to take another step and her foot only hit air. So she stopped, just glancing back at where she'd been, where she was, where she could yet be if she could find the way.

In the space of a thought, like pressing the button on a keyboard to see the letters appear instantaneously, the fluttering of wings became the whoosh of wind and a boom like the ocean. The universe opened itself back up to her and she wore the heavy cloak of power that gave her means to do [or have] anything she wanted far beyond her own abilities. It encouraged, practically begged, for her to use it, even offered ideas. Change her form into something more pleasing? Of course. Demolish a city? Can do. Make herself incredibly wealthy or cure all known diseases? Why not, let's do both. Destroy someone or bring them back from the dead? Child's play.

'Wait, back from the dead… Severus!' She snapped herself out of the power-induced haze that had set upon her and shrunk back from it, reminding herself why she came here. She didn't want any of those things, just him, restored fully to health. That's why she was doing this. But the lines between light and dark, good and evil were clearer to her than ever now. It'd be too easy for most in this place to give into temptation, to let it convince you to give up your soul or sacrifice another's for power, glory, or revenge. To lose yourself and let it corrupt you. But her heart and her intentions were pure, a selfless offering of life to save someone.

A stubborn, determined look came over her and she clung tighter to the soul she guarded. She refused to be sidetracked, refused to back down until she had what she came for. Nothing could stop her. When the pressure eased seconds later the realization hit her that she was being tested… one ordeal after another, to be found worthy. Exuberance filled her. Would she have her wish? When she felt a soft tugging and warm light filling her as she painstakingly put back together, lowered back to her body on earth, she knew she would.

Eyes blinking open to look down at Severus's bright face, she felt incredible power well up inside her and tingle in her palms. The voices whispering in her head and telling her what to do, she opened her mouth over his in the kiss of life and she breathed for both of them until it felt like a vice squeezed her lungs and she saw black spots. The energy burst forth with an explosion of blinding light that not only bathed the room but spilled outwards into the whole building. Then all she was aware of was the feel of his mouth… moving under hers. _'In this moment, I could live forever.'_


	6. Chapter 6

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I've pretty much finished typing and am doing final edits and uploads page by page, so should be updating regularly [20 pages/11 chapters in total]. Any Latin phrase translations will be at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter Six**

I bet you're hard to get over

I bet the moon just won't shine

I bet my hands I can stay here

I bet you need more than you mind

-1 week later-

Tiny motes of dust filtered in on the soft, intangible fingers of light that touched the unconscious girl's cheek and suddenly she felt each sensation keenly. The warmth soaked up by her cold, hungry skin, the motes tickling her nose, the faint scents of spice and smoke. It didn't feel like she was dead. Not anymore at least. Her tongue flicked out to moisten dry, cracked lips. But her mouth felt like a desert. The witch struggled to lift the heavy lids over gritty eyes and instantly regretted it as the dazzling light burned her retinas.

Groaning, she closed them again and pushed herself over onto her side, wincing at the soreness and stabbing pain. 'Waking up bad,' she decide with a small groan, instead burying closer into the delicious heat at her side. Maybe she was dead and this was heaven. It was like she was being enveloped in a blanket of clouds, cradled and soothed, gentle buffeting motions easing all her aches. Thus she quickly changed her mind about fighting this addicting feeling and trying to wake up. A dreamy smile curved her lips. Bayberry. She definitely smelled bayberry now. And sage, and sandalwood…

Sighing, her arms slid over the thing she was cushioned against and wrapped tighter. In that half-asleep state it didn't even register that she'd still be on the bed where she'd passed out post ritual. With Severus. That it was _his _warmth, _his _scents, _his _heart beating strong and steady like a drum in her ear... Until he spoke. "As… comfortable as this interesting new development is, Miss Granger, I believe I am going to require full use of al least one hand." At first the raspy voice went right over her head and she just made a sound of protest, snuggling in again. Then he cleared his throat, repeated himself in something nearer his usually deep, cultured tones, and her eyes cracked open again.

"Hmm?" she asked with a yawn, blinking fuzzily at him. The vision in front of her laughed softly and as it came into focus, she gave a startled gasp and scrambled to sit up. "Professor," Hermione breathed, so much respect and awe in that one word. Staring in surprise, her hand reached out to touch his face before she could stop herself. Whatever he'd been about to say was cut off when she impulsively gave him a bone-crushing hug. Her voice was choked by tears. "I was afraid it wouldn't work, you were so far gone, and it was such an obscure, oddly translated little text, and…"

The rest was lost in the stifling folds of his robes, but it didn't matter. He was back. Snape stood shock still, as if not really knowing what to say or do now, before unexpectedly [awkwardly] patting her on the back, rubbing in soothing motions. "I assure you, I am most certainly alive… Thanks to you." Amber orbs flickered up shyly, not recognizing the strange new note in his speech, but just as quickly decided she didn't care as long as he kept looking at her like that. It was more than gratitude, more than the validation she'd sought for so many years, it was… something else, an unknown. Fondness? The witch just nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

After quite a while without a word from the dazed looking girl, he returned with a quirk of his lips, "Since the hand closest to the tray is still unavoidably detained and my need for the pain potion is growing more urgent, would you mind passing me the bottle?" Mentally shaking herself, face flushed impossibly red, she complied, fingers curling around the cool, slim glass. "My thanks." A second time in less than half an hour! 'Unbelievable,' she thought as the fatigue and embarrassment faded enough for her to think. She must be dreaming after all.

Fascinated, she watched the normally dour professor make a face at the nasty tasting stuff, following it with Pepper-Up potion and encouraging her to do the same. Grinning, she took it without blinking. It's funny how you never realize exactly how much you miss something, or how dear someone is to you, until you nearly lose them. She knew she'd appreciate a lot more this time around. It was a miracle just having him here. "Do I have something on my face that I wasn't aware of, Miss Granger? You seem to be rather scrutinizing in your regard."

Now there was the silky, purring tone she loved. Biting her lip as a flush of a different sort ran through her, she glanced away. "No sir." Hermione coughed, gathering courage before she looked back. "But I'd enjoy it if we could call each other by our first names now, at least in private. With the school year over, exams being waved and all, I'd like to think we could be cordial colleagues, if not friends… I'm apprenticing under Madame Pomphrey, you know." There was a large degree of nervousness as she waited. "As you somehow fought all opposition, maybe even the gods themselves, to save my life, I believe it will be no hardship to call you my friend… Hermione."

His verbalization of her given name warmed her deep inside and she lit up with an unabashedly joyful smile for a moment before tampering it back down where it belonged. "Good. I'm glad." "I've noticed, he murmured with wry amusement, coal black orbs dropping to where she still [subconsciously] held onto his arm. She followed his gaze and slowly let go of his arm with another blush. "And I think young Mr. Weasley has as well." The older man nodded towards the door with a definite gleam in his eye.

She turned her head in that direction only to see Ron's glowering face disappear from view. "Perhaps you ought to console the boy, he appears rather… put out." The last comment was made close enough to her ear that she could feel the hot puff of breath that caused every hair on her body to stand to attention, a shiver racing down her spine. She coughed to cover it. "Yea, he was quite… bothered last time I saw him, concerned with all the risk involved in the ritual. Worry wart." Hermione laughed weakly.

The ex-spy just nodded his dark head with an expression that clearly read as 'I don't believe you, but I won't argue it now.' And as she slipped from the bed with forced casualness, she tried to pretend she hadn't just been cuddling then subsequently clinging to the man. "I'll go… talk to him then, I suppose. It's really good to see you recovered though… Severus." Then the 19 year old disappeared into the hall on shaky legs, heart slamming into her robs and lips tingling with use of the word.


	7. Chapter 7

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I've pretty much finished typing and am doing final edits and uploads page by page, so should be updating regularly [20 pages/11 chapters in total]. Any Latin phrase translations will be at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter Seven**

And I think you're so mean- I think we should try

I think I could need- this in my life

I think I'm scared- that I know too much

I can't relate and that's a problem I'm feeling

"Ron!" she called, luckily [or not] catching him before he got too far away. He turned slowly on a heel as if frozen, his voice stiff. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm happy you're okay, and it's amazing you succeeded, for better or worse. But I could see you were too busy for _me_." The wizards words were bitter. "About Voldemort too… like I said, we really couldn't have done it without you. I'm not even sure Harry could tap that kind of power- not without either of us dying too. What're the odds of someone else coming through just in time, right?" If she hadn't known better, she would've sworn there was an accusatory lilt.

"We all did our part," Hermione echoed his weird vibe. "But about the other night-" He lifted a hand, interrupting. "I get it, you were right about Snape being alive, right about speaking up and maybe being immature. And it's nice you were able to bounce back so quickly." At her blank look, he pointed at the medical ward with a sneer. "_Him? _Awfully cozy there. Makes sense now, you defending him so much over the years no matter how evil the git was, practically begging for attention all the time, the mooning in class…"

"That's called paying attention! And asking for clarification on assignments! You should've tried it once in a while, maybe then I wouldn't have always been doing most of your work for you!" "Attention. More like obsession," he argued stubbornly, hate in his eyes. "You're just fishing for an easy explanation as to why I don't fit into your mold of a meek, doting girlfriend and happy future, which you could've clued me it to before this, and you're burned up that I don't want you like that," she scoffed.

"But maybe you're right, maybe I've been fooling myself that you were my type all this time. And yea, interaction with a _mature, intelligent _male for once was bloody fantastic, especially given the fact that even when he was snarky he paid attention! Should I apologize for the fact I felt practically invisible around you two? All the times when you and Harry were talking privately amongst yourselves, obsessing over girls or Quidditch, or sneaking off together to cause some kind of mischief? Mischief I'd later have to bail you out on nine times out of ten, I might add."

"Maybe because when you got anywhere around books or chatting up Snape about potions or homework or something stupid, you'd brush us off. Then you were ready to abandon us and risk everything on unstable, unknown magic with dangerous and possibly catastrophic results. Like dividing yourself, your life, in half to extend his miserable existence. But you couldn't sacrifice an evening with your books to do something with us most days? Now you're in there having a ball and cozying up to Snape with no thought to your actual _friends_ while we wait and worry over your condition? If anyone's guilty of being a bad friend and ignoring people, it's you." Hands clenched into fists, his tone was hateful.

Hermione growled. "Well then I'm sorry I didn't rush to you the second I regained consciousness, and sorry I didn't collapse on the floor instead of the bed where I was kneeling, okay? No, you know what? I enjoyed the _hell _out if it. I _loved _just lying there in his arms and having him so close against me. I _loved _feeling every movement and every breath as his smooth voice poured over me. I _loved _looking into those smoldering dark eyes and feeling like I was the only one in the world. I _loved _even for an instant having the impression that I was cared for, and in that instant, yes, I thought I might care for him too ."

She saw his face, flushed an angry red, deepening in color and knew she was baiting him but didn't care. In a small corner of her mind, she knew that a lot of what was coming out was truth she'd been afraid and embarrassed to admit to. But right now the anger just felt way too good, _hurting him _felt too good. Maybe because it took away from the grief that had torn into her, that even now made her feel like breaking down into tears, knowing how close they'd come. Maybe because he'd hurt her first with his lack of trust and understanding. His stinging, odious words, the neglectful ignorance… and all the other stuff in the past that she'd suppressed.

It was one part, and it was everything. And she smiled cruelly as she laid down the coup de grace, seeing him wince as she did. "It was one of the most fulfilling moments I've ever had with someone… even having _sex_ with Viktor. And if you're looking for guilt or shame for power I knew I had all along, and research that saved all our asses in addition to resurrecting a great hero, you're going to be waiting a long time. Like until hell freezes over." But Ron, while often poorly armed, was well experienced in fights of the verbal nature and knew just where to aim to pack a punch. "Have fun with that while you can, Harry said he turned in his resignation even before the battle, so he won't be staying long either."

Hermione was floored by this news but masked it expertly. Why hadn't she known? Why had the thought never entered her mind? Why was he planning to leave her so very soon? 'Hogwarts,' she corrected herself. She meant he was leaving Hogwarts. But he couldn't leave now, right? He was still recovering. He'd been dead, technically. While she reeled from the news, the redhead disappeared and she heard a knock from the other side of the door. "Hermione, I'm going to require assistance in the next room… What's wrong?" "I think Ron just ditched me as a friend," the former Gryffindor said hollowly off the top of her head, stating the very least of her issues.

"Better off then… er… rather, my apologies," the professor capitulated, watching her face as if trying to analyze what was there and how to fix it. "Do you need a moment? That blasted mediwitch is calling me for further examination anyway. Though if you need to talk…" Just as she thought everything inside her was calming, her heart tripped over his words, and her body almost went with it. Whether this was another fluke, or some new twist of personalities, Severus Snape was actually being nice. Not even just that, friendly. Concerned. For her. Shaking her head with a mouthed 'thanks', she watched him stroll back to Pomphrey, who was soon pushing him to sit back and eat. Ron soon slipped her mind entirely as all of her contemplative energies were centered on the ex-spy.

He'd never been an easy person to get to know, even harder to like- his stubborn, caustic, solitary nature saw to that. He was a puzzle and Hermione wondered if that was one reason he drew her so- there were so many secrets and layers one could become ancient before unraveling all of them. And wizards could live far longer than a century. What she wouldn't give to- She squelched that thought as soon as it formed. As hard as it seemed to earn his loyalty and trust, he'd shown a hundred times over that once you had it, he'd move heaven and earth for you. A very appealing quality. Though not likely one she'd ever see directed towards her. She'd saved him, so perhaps earned a degree of thankfulness, but she didn't want that.

That and his astounding inner [and outer] strength had always moved her. It was incredibly sad more people couldn't see it, wouldn't go the distance for him. How cold and lonely that must be, even for someone like him. To always have to keep your emotions on a back-burner and have only a cause to live for? Suddenly she wished she could change that for him. 'But even if he weren't planning to leave, it's doubtful he'd let you,' her logical side chipped in. Returning to the room feeling oddly wistful, she took the chair by his bed. So you wanted something?" she inquired as he finished his meal under Pomphrey's eagle eye.

"Yes," he sighed, "this infernal woman refuses to give me my wand or let me leave, even long enough to gather some things from my room. Normally I'm quite in control of my magic that I don't need my wand to cast spells, but in my current condition it's not an option. Would you do me a grand favor and get them for me if I made a list? If you're feeling up to it that is. I certainly wouldn't dare trust Potter or his silly followers to do it and McGonagall is gone." She swallowed, aware of the magnitude of this moment. He'd confessed a weakness to her [whether or not she'd already seen him at his weakest], made it a request, and even threw 'trust' in there. Was this the real Severus Snape?

Did someone else come back in his place the other night? "Your mouth is catching flies, Miss Granger." Nope, it was him. The auburn-haired witch shut her mouth, fighting the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Okay, I'll do it," she sighed, trying not to get distracted by the eyes glittering like polished obsidian… Or his mouth… Vague flashes of memory of brushing her lips over his and feeling their softness, once when she thought he was dead, another saving him from death, came back to her in full force and she barely suppressed a moan. But clearing her throat nervously to cover it anyway, she obtained the list and the password and made her way to the dungeons.

Since he didn't use a portrait [for safety, security and because of their rambling], he'd described the particular pattern of stones perfectly and she found them even in the dim lighting. Whispering Serpentine [how fitting!] Hermione stepped through the cleverly enchanted patch of wall, it'd struck her that she was actually in Severus Snape's private residence. Large, but rather Spartan quarters with a private lab, shelves of books… a tastefully decorated bedroom… A shiver ran through her and she licked her lips. Was she ready to traverse this previously unexplored territory? No, but there she went. And it was sensory overload. With the scents she usually associated with him surrounding her, the soft glow flickering over the walls and the faint sounds like the gentle breeze over a river [either good spellwork or location]…

It was a scene out of one of her romance novels and devastated her right mind. There was even the old stone fireplace covering almost a whole wall by itself, a compilation of books collectors would die for, and a huge cabinet brilliantly stocked with potions' ingredients [most of them rare]. And that was missing was him. Hermione sighed. She'd even enjoyed opening his heavily engraved wardrobe and thumbing through it to pick out one or two things. It was stunning to discover not all of the clothes were black- a few shirts were white, certain items in dark blue, green or grey. It made her wonder why she never saw him he didn't wear them- until it followed with 'it'd make him look more approachable.'

The ones he wore, unable to be repaired by magic, were still stained and torn from Nagini's attack. Pomphrey was quite dismayed she couldn't even remove them without paining him, whole sections of flesh seared into the fabric. It was a grim reminder of what had happened, and that if not for an incredible amount of luck and unexpected magic, he'd be gone. She couldn't wait to help him burn them. Scowling, her arms tightened around the requested materials and she made her way back to the infirmary with hurried steps and the beginnings of a headache. And she _almost _made it. _Almost _completed her task to lay her bundle at his feet. But she only _almost _crossed the floor before the wave of nausea and dizziness hit. She fainted after four steps.


	8. Chapter 8

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I've pretty much finished typing and am doing final edits and uploads page by page, so should be updating regularly [20 pages/11 chapters in total]. Any Latin phrase translations will be at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter Eight**

If you're gone- maybe it's time to come home

There's an awful lot of breathing room

But I can hardly move

An indefinite a later, Hermione was jostled awake and groaned, gritting her teeth as pain spiked through her brain. One week recovering in stasis and she still blacks out. Great. If he hadn't thought her incredibly pathetic before, he must now. "Got the stuff," she rasped with a weak smile, waiting for the spinning to cease as she was set down. He sighed and was wondering what she'd missed when she heard a muttered 'Gryffindors.' She was surprised to feel him tilt her head up as he looked into her eyes, scrutinizing, before two medicinal draughts were pushed into her hand. "Sometimes I fear your overwhelming drive to do good despite common sense is a terrible wound from which one can't recover."

She made a face as she gulped down the contents of the containers. "I thought it had passed." "Dangerous thoughts," the professor said soberly. For some reason that made her burst out laughing and, shockingly, he joined in with a quiet chuckle that did funny things to her insides. "You have no idea," she whispered, toying with the empty bottle before making it disappear. And he couldn't. Even she wasn't quite sure what ran through her mind as she stared up at her companion. Except this side of him was wreaking havoc on her sanity. Quite wicked of him, really. Some rumors were well deserved.

"You even _look _different," slipped out as she stared at him, touching his cheek lightly before withdrawing, unable to believe her lack of control with him. "Softer… younger… it's so… strange…" A grin flashed across his face and it took her breath away. It's as if he'd been… renewed- no lines, dark circles, wrinkles or sallow tone. "Took a bit to get used to, but not a bad thing, is it?" "No… not at all…" she said dazedly, swallowing convulsively because he still had her hand in his and she just realized he had no shirt.

Pomphrey must've been putting more oils and ointments on the giant bites/scars from Nagini. Eeep. "Must've been your effect on me, this change. It's like a second chance." His chest rumbled with his words. The air was clouded with tension, if only on her part, and she didn't know what to make of the comment. She didn't know this man now and it both thrilled and scared her. New look, new attitude. What defense did she have against him, the intriguing stranger she'd [literally] breathed life into? How should she act? The professor she had known before made it almost easy… with his many defenses, the repelling shield he kept around himself, the sinister looking glower and potion-slicked hair.

She supposed it'd served him as a spy to go unnoticed, disliked. Though it hadn't really worked on her, had it? Because she was used to his treatment, found a kindred soul? She'd given half her life to that man and hadn't given a second thought about it; one didn't do that purely out of obligation, as Ron had hinted. So what would she potentially be tempted to do for this one who seemed so much more approachable, reached out to her?

It certainly hadn't escaped her notice that he'd been awake before her and had let her lie all over him for a few hours rather than wake her- after being stuck like that for a week in a magic induced coma. And he hadn't said a word as she'd stupidity continued to hold onto his hand except 'can you please pass my potion?' she chewed on her lip, deep in thought. What possibilities… What could it mean? "I suppose this is something I'll have to get used to now, your newfound proclivity for daydreaming?" The droll voice teased. Teasing? Perhaps she imagined it.

"I can imagine a worse fate. Would you have preferred Ron keeping you company in here?" She quipped back with a snicker, causing him to have a look of mock horror then reflection. "Somehow I doubt Mr. Weasley would go through so much trouble to save his 'evil git' of a Potions Master in the first place." She avoided the silent question in his eyes about why she did and said airily, "Ron thinks anyone who gives him too much homework or makes him think has to be out to get him. It doesn't occur to him it's to get him to use that mushy muscle in his head." "As opposed to you, who went out of your way to seek a challenge?"

Hermione paused, "No, I actually was out to get you. Part of my wicked plan- stage one, vexing you with the sheer volume of questions, scrolls upon scrolls of extra assignments to give out and grade. I took particular delight in such." The answer seemed to surprise Severus before he chuckled again. "How very… Slytherin of you. I'm sure you would've done much credit to our house. But what was stage two?" She just smirked like that was for her to know and him to find out and he shook his head. She deflected the comment that warmed her by qualifying, "If I weren't muggleborn."

"Yes, well, even Draco agrees that ordeal is both a travesty and irony. Who would figure, much less dare mention, the zealot who headed that campaign was half muggle himself?" She just nodded, not wanting to discuss said zealot further. Finally he seemed to get back to where he wanted to be in the conversation when he broached the unavoidable topic. "Draco left a note for me on the properties of the ritual and your actions in case there were residual effects that might cause complications. I read it during your trip to the dungeons." Hermione prayed the note didn't have anything too revealing in it, and something on her face told her it didn't.

"Afraid you might end up with a few foolish Gryffindor traits?" she tried to change the subject, oddly uncomfortable. "I suppose there could be worse fates," he quoted with a twitch of his lips. "But it does pose several interesting questions…" "Nothing to keep you from leaving before the next school year, don't worry." Her attempts didn't quite make it. She shrugged. "We do our respective parts and time marches on. What I did wasn't anything special. There are others, I'm sure, who could've found a simpler solution. The most important thing is that we don't let the past get in the way, especially now we have a brighter future to look forward to."

The look he gave her was inscrutable and made her shift in her chair. "The most important thing…" he mused aloud. "That's quite a move to make for honor and obligation though." "I always _did _like to go above and beyond." Another weak joke. "And what about you, what do you get from this?" A fair question for him to ask. She looked away. "You're an amazing man, Severus. A hero who didn't deserve to die for a cause that underappreciated him and his talents. You contributed so much and got so little." She paused for a moment, knowing she'd been getting emotional again. Clearing her throat, she continued on in a calmer tone.

"Where would we have been without your decades of service? Being able to give something back was its own reward." His next words brought her head back around and took away what was left of her control. "Surely we could do better than that… Hermione." Her name on his lips was a caress, and she gulped at the intimacy of it. In that instant his mouth covered hers and her last thought was there was a major difference between the brush of lips saving his life, and this. Fire swam through her, so keenly aware of every move, every lick, every breath [which was perfectly synced with hers].

She was completely outside herself, vulnerable and wanting. Her hands flew to his shoulders, gripping as if they were the only thing that kept her from drowning, barely conscious of being lifted onto the bed again. Desire clawed at her insides, her body burning and churning with lust that made her clench her thighs tighter together. She didn't know this fierce, hungry creature that whimpered and arched into his hands. She became someone… something else too. He'd devour her, she thought suddenly. Consume her so there was nothing left but a quaking pile of flesh and bones.

Then he'd leave. She knew that even as she performed the ritual, she'd be foolish to forget that now. Breathing heavily, she broke away. "More than sufficient," she panted, sliding clumsily off the bed on rubbery legs and almost falling. Grabbing the red outer robe she'd tossed over the back of her chair, she kept her eyes on him as she backed away slowly, as if it were a game of chicken. "I'm sorry… Good night, Severus." And once she hit the door she turned and ran, feeling better with every inch.


	9. Chapter 9

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Two more chapters to go, then I have another much longer one in the works that just needs an ending. Enjoy!

**Chapter Nine**

If you're gone- baby you need to come home,

Oh come home

There's a little bit of something me

In everything in you

She hadn't gone far. With the towers that'd once housed the students [except for the clever Slytherins] near destroyed like most of the castle, those remaining had taken whatever they could- her own temporary quarters only feet from the medical ward as the apprentice mediwitch. But as she hadn't left there in close to two days, it hadn't proven a problem so far. She lay back on her bed, hands in her tousled hair, biting her lips and trying not to think of the kiss, or the kiss-er.

The old Snape never would've done such a thing, Hermione thought, a little lost. Never would've shook her grip on reality and question everything she knew of admiration, friendship, lust, love… To him, she'd been nothing but an insufferable know-it-all he occasionally shared a meal with or indulged with a debate on potions. He'd tolerated her, barely, not wanted her. She might've amused him in some ways, when she wasn't infuriating, but that was it. The old Snape had never inspired these intense feelings. Except maybe in dreams. Not that they'd happened that often…

Respect, awe, fascination, yes, but affection or desire? His keep-away looks and persona almost forbid it. This other Snape… Severus, It was too complicated to fathom. If he hadn't been leaving, would she have stayed, kept kissing him? Would she have been less afraid to explore these previously undiscovered facets of his personality and their new connection? Or would she have still chickened outWas she more scared that she could remember what he was like before as well as after, or that it was too easy to forget it?

If things had just gone back to normal, what would've happened? Would she be relieved or upset, just plumbing the depths of her feelings now? 'Quit fooling yourself, it'd you'd be upset, you've had knowledge of his body pressed intimately against yours, the feel of his mouth on yours [thrice now], both souls intertwined in the astral plane… You couldn't have gone back to what it was.' The witch banished the voice. She was in over her head. "I've got to say, Granger, you sure don't do anything in half measures," a rich, arrogant voice breezed into the room with its owner, who plunked down in the plush velvet chair across from her.

Hermione sat up with surprise, but automatically quipped, "Professor Snape wouldn't allow for anything else. You learn to adapt. What're you doing here?" The platinum blonde flashed a self-satisfied grin and she briefly marveled how much more open and carefree he looked- she finally got why he was so popular with the girls [and even some boys] in the castle. "You didn't change the password attached to the rooms after moving in. I spent almost a month here recouping after Father found out I wasn't going to be taking the Dark Mark 7th year."

He'd said it so casually. Like it was nothing- or so commonplace it didn't affect him anymore. She felt a pang of sympathy for him anyway. Her parents had been very loving and she'd had the impression, up until now, Lucius Malfoy treated his son like a prince. She'd had no idea. "Right, silly me. So what's this about half measures?" she said in a bored tone. He laughed. "My godfather, of course. I haven't seen him like this in… well, ever." She raised an eyebrow quizzically, waiting for him to elaborate.

"The Dark Mark is finally gone and it's like it never existed- he truly is like a new man. He smiles real smiles and jokes with me, the pain in his eyes is gone and the tensed, hunched sloop of his shoulders that made him look even older than his 39 years is too. Quite a feat, giving a man a new lease on life and de-aging him a decade or two. We both owe you a lot," he finished more seriously. The weary witch shook her head, "Like I told him, nobody owes me anything. I had for my own reasons for saving him and that's that. It's nothing more than he deserves, I was just doing my part." "Really, so you would've done the same thing for… say, Moody? Looney Lovegood? Longbottom definitely, right?"

She couldn't answer and he had a knowing look. "That's all well and good, Granger, but for us Slytherins it's a matter of pride to repay what we feel a debt, however small. And we're very careful about who we become indebted to in the first place and why. What you did goes beyond imagining, so you're stuck with it. You need something, anything, say the word. That's not something I offer lightly." As before, with a look, something in his face and tone made her reconsider and she argued no further, just nodding in acceptance. He seemed pleased. "I'd ask if you could make him stay here, but I know this is what he needs," she sighed broodingly, knowing she wouldn't have to explain who she meant to him.

"He has so much to share, or teach, but he didn't really enjoy it, did he? Nobody appreciated his talents or genius to take him seriously in class. Though Merlin only knows it could've saved countless lives. He did it out of obligation to Dumbledore and to preserve his status as a double agent. It'd be selfish to trap him here." There was a considering light in the Slytherins eyes that she didn't see, staring at the wall, and his voice was changed when he said, "I know of at least two people who _did _learn and appreciate. And believe me, it made all the difference." She flushed. "I doubt it. You've heard him in class, all the disparaging remarks. I'm just an insufferable know-it-all who's sole purpose was to torment him. Now it's like he feels obligated to tolerate me."

Right, Snape was great for showing favoritism. And he never picked on his own house either," he scoffed and Hermione stuck her tongue out at his sarcasm. "Sev was tough because he had to be, for his cover and so those he taught would stick it. 'What hurts, often instructs.' A favorite quote of his. Potions is dangerous business. And he was hardest on the ones he thought had the most potential. He even thought Longbottom had potential because he was brilliant at Herbology. But don't tell him I said that. Weasley was another story though." Her uninvited companion snickered and she narrowed her eyes for only a second before giving into it too. Ron truly _was _hopeless_._ But she sobered when she picked apart his words to find the parts aimed at her.

He knew she took all her lessons to heart and thought she had great potential? He didn't hate her? A greater part of the tension coiled in her stomach eased. But it didn't change much, he was still leaving… Then what did she have? As if he'd been reading her thoughts [and she wouldn't put it passed him], Draco replied, "Just because he's leaving Hogwarts and no longer teaching doesn't mean he's gonna defect to Bulgaria or the Americas or something silly like that. His home is in England. Whether it's the southernmost regions or Hogsmeade, he'll always just be a floo away. If there's anyone in the world who knows the value of a promise and keeps it, it's Sev. You think I learned my sense of morals and honor from Father? If he said 'friend', he means it. Unless he means more," he added with a roguish grin, making her flush.

Wide-eyed, Hermione just took in everything he said with careful consideration. The humor of the situation did not escape her though- at odds with Ron who now acted like a hateful, self-righteous bigot, and getting along with someone who used to be the embodiment of 'Pureblood Superiority.' Or so she'd thought. Who would've figured? He was charismatic, entertaining, intelligent, and they were communicating civilly. This wasn't the same Draco they spent eight years hating and fighting. And to think she used to say she was such a good judge of character. She overlooked so much.

"Besides, you won't be apprenticing forever. You're extremely smart, and more powerful than most would've thought. You'll no doubt finish in half the time or less, like Sev did, and be out of here yourself. Plenty of room there to grow with him…" The way he put everything, she felt extremely silly for overreacting as going into panic mode. "I told Scarhead I'd help with the plans to reconstruct the castle though, so I should get going before dinner." She nodded, off in her own world with so much in her head. But there's one more thing I think you should consider, Granger," the boy said firmly. 'A lecture from Malfoy,' she thought with a small smile. Priceless.

"Unless you fooled us all and went to the dark side, which I doubt, you wouldn't have been able to do the 'spirit of vengeance' thing on Voldemort or save Sev without the ultimate power- love. The only thing stronger than death. I never thought I of all people would have to school 'the brightest witch of her age,' especially on this… But you hiding out here sulking instead of talking to him proves it. And if he hadn't felt the same, or was otherwise connected to you, you wouldn't have been able to ground his soul and that ritual would've failed. That ritual, by the way, was based on an ancient hand-fasting ceremony and created by a young bride who too soon lost her soulmate. One thing I had to admire about my father, he knew his charms. His books were all spelled to show him what he needed when he needed it." Then the young lord was gone, and her head was spinning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Next chapter is the finale, so enjoy! I've got another, much longer one in the works, it just needs and ending, which I can hopefully come up with soon so I can type it up.

**Chapter Ten**

I think you're so mean- I think we should try

I think I could need- this in my life

And I think I'm scared- do I talk to much

I know it's wrong, it's a problem I'm dealing

Sadly, it took her a full day after the talk with Draco for the usually bright witch to process her thoughts and feelings. It took another entirely to gather courage to act as she should've. As this only as she he'd from a house elf he'd already packed a lot of boxes and moved them out. Why hadn't Pomphrey- no, she stopped herself before the thought was even completed. There'd be no reason to hold him now, would there? There was only a faint scar now to mark where the giant snake bite had been, and he was fully restored in every other way as well, perhaps more so than he'd ever been.

Nothing to keep him from his dream of leaving to begin his own venture- an apothecary maybe, or private research, from what Draco had suggested. She wouldn't keep him from it either, but maybe she had a chance of sharing it. If she hurried. Running down to the dungeons with her heart thundering madly, she saw the stone doorway open… giving a nice open view of the half empty rooms. As she swallowed back her nervousness and fear, Hermione cleared her throat, seeing him standing at the far end near the library.

His dark head slowly rose from his task of manually piling boxes [perhaps to inventory]. Those bottomless charcoal eyes flashed and the corners of his lips twitched upwards, but that was the only sign of his feelings. "Come to wish me luck on my endeavor?" that deep, whisky-smooth voice vibrated through the air between them and along her skin like a verbal caress, and had her shaking to the core. Like plucking a string on a base guitar, she reacted… and it was a beautiful music that bathed her in warmth, squeezing around her heart like a hug. How had she ever doubted she loved him? Perhaps for years. "Something like that." Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt heavy, thick, trying to wrap around the words.

"I suppose I should feel honored you came out of hiding for this minor special occasion," he replied with a dash of both mocking and solemnity. When he tilted his head just so, glossy raven locks fell across his classically Romanesque face and her fingers itched with the desire to brush them back for him, knowing firsthand how silky they felt. More aware of him now than she'd ever been before, she whispered in reply to him, "No minor occasion. Never when it comes to you."

How fast he could go from still to motion! And so fluid and sensual, she marveled dazedly as he moved towards her with a panthers' grace.

His body was lean, muscled, deadly and all the more potent for it. "Your famed houses' courage must've caught up with you, that was almost a full sentence. But what's this?" he asked, frightfully near now as he captured her wrists in a blink. He turned it gently over so his long capable fingers stroked over the veins apparent under the tender flesh, and she couldn't control the shivers this time. Hermione could feel his hot breath on her lips he was so close and her body tightened with need, pooling inside her, goose bumps rising. "Your pulse is racing like a scared rabbit's, Miss Granger."

Added to the velvet tone he used, she felt impossibly warm and bit her lip on a squeak as when his fingers trailed up her arm, following the pulsing vein. She'd never heard her surname uttered in that way before, especially by him, and the combination of old and new excited her. She suspected he knew it too, with those hypnotic, suitably serpentine orbs eyeing her like she was up on the menu. "Is it?" she breathed. An extremely lame attempt at a snappy comeback, and she cursed herself for it as her tongue nervously darted out to wet her lips again. An action those eyes seemed to follow closely, she noted with a gulp.

"I _was _just jogging." Not really a lie, she _had _run all the way here… Now hopefully her aforementioned courage didn't fail before she could get out what she needed to. It was particularly hard to think with him touching her though. Stepping away and grappling for a breezy manner, Hermione took a turn around the room. "Amazing how much one can accomplish in just a few days if motivated." She purposely avoided his gaze. "Not as impressive a magic as bringing a man back from hell itself, but quite serviceable." The 19-year-old could feel the weight of that gaze like a tangible thing and blushed again as she toyed with the locket she wore. The emotional was there too.

It was humbling and made her fumble internally, not knowing how to handle that staggering aspect as of yet, but it was a good opening. "Draco actually provided the book it came from- from his fathers' library. And the ritual pretty much jumped out at me. I just spoke the words, with a few others to assist." "A little more than that," Severus murmured, oh so softly touching her curls in a kind of catch and release so it sprung back up and brushed her jawline. When had he gotten so very near so quickly and quietly? Her heart slammed into her ribs hard enough to make her gasp- or maybe it was the fact that he was pretty much flush against her back and she keenly felt every blessed inch.

"Unless Draco, Potter, or the other two halved their lives for me as well? It might explain the conflicting impulses to both take care of you and ravage you." Only there was no real question in his voice. The breath whooshed right out of her as he spoke into her ear, voice almost carrying more power with the decreased volume. His hands just gripped her bare upper arms as he said it, but fire whipped through her like a storm all the same. "Draco?" she guessed his informer, remembering he'd mentioned a note from his godson.

She felt her former professor shake his head. "He told me about the book, went through a little about what the ritual entailed, but maddeningly not much at all. Mr. Potter was actually the one that filled in the blanks. We had a rather… interesting and informative discussion the day before last." Hermione laughed, "That's funny, I had a similar talk with Draco…" her sentence trailed off when he turned her around to face him. "Yes, the Unitas Vinculum…" he whispered, backing her up, brushing his lips over hers. "Interesting piece of magic. I'd had an odd feeling it might've been that even before I was told. After you left me in the infirmary with my confusion, in fact, my dear know-it-all."

With every word their breaths mingled, mouths brushing intimately. "And now?" the amber-eyed beauty asked almost inaudibly. "What's next?" "Don't you know? Can't you feel it? I can feel you inside me, and it's been driving me insane for days, along with the urge to rush up there like a damned Gryffindor, blast aside that insipid wall-hanging and give you a real reason not to leave that bed." The low growl both surprised and aroused her further but she knew the sentiments well because she'd had them too. He'd been inside her too, even before the ritual.

"And why don't you?" Hermione queried huskily, eyes dark with passion. She only got a groan in response, then he proceeded to give her a reason, feasting hungrily on her neck. Just that fast he turned from gently persuasive lover into a darkly sensual creature intent only on her desire. "Your mouth," she whispered, her voice husky. "I need your mouth." 'Not yet,' he projected into her mind erotically. She shivered at the implacability of that comment, the dark sexual tone. Severus not only lost control, he wasn't going to allow her any either. She could've fought, but if she was truly honest with herself, she'd dreamed of this since the night he rescued her from the werewolves before the final battle. It'd just been half-buried fantasies before. He could have her any and every way he wanted.

**A/N: **At last, the rated M hotness! …coming next chapter, lol. This was but a taste. Stay tuned! The exciting conclusion is coming right up…


	11. Chapter 11

**Obscuram per Obscurios**

**Summary: **It was in the midst of the final battle scouting for Death Eaters, that Hermione came across Snape, left to die in the Shrieking Shack. Enraged and grief-stricken, she took on hell itself to save him. So what now? What could be scarier than Voldemort? For Hermione, loving the dark hero. Rated M for later hotness.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, their universe, or Matchbox 20, much to my disappointment.

**A/N: **Thanks be to those who have reviewed so far, I'm hoping to get a lot more in the future, and even better if my story [or me as an author] get put on the 'receive alerts' list, lol. Here it goes, the final chapter, and it was so much fun to create! Sorry it took so long to get here, but anticipation just heightens the pleasure, right? I've got another much longer one in the works that just needs an end, which I can hopefully come up with soon so I can type it up for loading.

**Chapter Eleven**

If you're gone- maybe it's time to come home

There's an awful lot of breathing room

But I can hardly breathe

Raising her arms, she went to twist them behind her and around his neck, but he was already nudging her forward, onto the bed. She flowed with the movement, ending up on her knees on the sheets. Severus pressed his hand to her lower back. Understanding the silent message, she went down onto her hands too. It was a starkly submissive position. However she was feeling anything but submissive. Using one hand to shift her hair to the side, she glanced back over her shoulder, wanting to tease him in the way a woman could tease a man in bed. "Oh God."

He was glowing. A visceral fear bloomed in her gut, born of eons-old instinct. Then, eyes hooded, he stroked a hand over her back and, with a breath, the fear changed into something more parallel to desire. 'Spread your thighs.' She resisted. A glance of savage, burning black. Smiling just enough to let him know she was teasing, she widened her stance the merest fraction. He responded by running a single finger across the seam of her pants, stroking right over the hottest, most hungry part of her. "Severus!"

'You wanted to play.' Still as dark, still as full of sexual intent… but holding an undertone of sensual amusement, as if daring her to deny her innermost thoughts. Shuddering under the intimacy of the caress, she blew out a breath. "Yes I did." She went to flip over onto her back, but he read the tension in her muscles faster than she could blink, holding her in place with a single hand on her hip. "No fair," she murmured, dropping her head. "I'm not as strong." 'Who said anything about playing fair?'

She laughed, feeling as if her skin was stretching to accommodate the sexual energy within. His presence in her mind became an impossibly more sensual aura as his fingers pushed forward. "I could sense your dampness. I'll lick you here." The stark statement of intent spoken aloud had fire burning across her cheeks. "Such heat under your skin," he murmured, hands all over her. The mouthwateringly masculine strength of his body behind hers, the way he touched her like he had all the time in the world to torment her, as if there were no impatience in him, drove her mad.

He widened her stance even more. This time she didn't resist, even in play, wanting to entice him to go faster. "Severus." "I love the sound of my name on your lips." When he cupped her, it was all she could do to suck in a few gasping breaths. The sheets blurred in front of her eyes as he parted her. "Hurry." It was a whisper. But he heard. 'No.' Her flesh dampened even more for him, a rush of liquid flowing to the juncture of her thighs. She went to squeeze them instinctively tight, but he stopped her with one knee on the bed, his leg pushing against her thigh.

She felt the bed dip as he shifted fully onto it, mirroring her position- except he kept that thigh between hers, his left hand palm down beside hers while his right reached to mold her breasts. It was as if the knowledge of carnal pleasure was imprinted on her very muscles. And the sensation… "It's too much," she whimpered, trying to pull away. He held her in place. "You'll get used to it." Frustrated and needy, she rubbed against the ridge of his arousal. He pinched her nipple just enough to spark a wildfire inside her. Crying out, she bucked against him. When that didn't work, she followed instinct and dropped to her front, twisting over and onto her back before he could stop her.

Legs tangled with his, she looked up at the spy who had possessiveness burning in his gaze. "Enough," she whispered. He shifted to free her legs, but shook his head, his entire frame white-hot. "No." he dazzled, overwhelming her senses. But she couldn't, wouldn't, close her eyes, fascinated by his unearthly beauty. Dangerous, he was so very dangerous. But he was hers. Raising her hands, she pressed them against his chest. An unadultered adrenaline rush. His eyes met hers, the whites eclipsed by the black. She should've been afraid, but she was too much in need to feel anything close to fear.

"Severus." It was a plea and a demand in one, her body moving in sinuous welcome. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers at last, kissing her with a slow, almost primal intensity that had her stroking her hands up to his shoulders, trying to pull him down. But he continued to hold himself above her, closing his teeth over her lip when she insisted. The contained power behind that steely frame was magnificent, a storm she could taste in the intensity of his kiss. Need twisted inside her, a clawing, voracious hunger.

Gripping his shoulders, she threw her leg over his… and moved one hand in a slow glide down his back. The power of him blazed so bright, she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. His lips met hers again a moment later and this time, there was nothing contained about him. The wizard had well and truly let go of the reins. His body came over hers, his erection pressing demandingly into her abdomen. She twisted, trying to get him between her thighs. But Severus had other ideas. Tearing his lips from hers, he pinned her down and began to kiss his way down her body. Her heart stilled, then restarted at frenetic speed. 'I promised to lick you there.' They were so bound thoughts were the same as words.

"No!" She squealed, trying again to get away from a pleasure she knew would smash through her, a thousand glittering shards. 'You'll get used to it.' She had a mental picture of the smirk he attached to the projected words as he repeated himself. Reaching out, she tried to hold him to her, but his hair slid of her hands like black water, silky and cool across her flesh. She gripped the sheets, dug her heels into the bed. But nothing could have prepared her for the way he tasted her, his hands keeping her spread for his delectation.

It was agony and ecstasy, liquid lightning contained within a body that seemed suddenly too small, too fragile, for what it was being asked to bear. As if he knew he'd pushed her too far, Severus rose to press a kiss to her navel. 'Mine.' Heart catching at the affection laced with the sexual heat, she reached down to run her fingers across his lips. There was no smile- the force of the emotions between them was too strong, too much to allow for laughter now- but he didn't halt her explorations. When his hand moved against her hip, she shivered.

Then those lips were on her, firm, determined, unrelenting in their demands. 'Mine. You are _mine_.' His kiss was as earthy as his words, full of masculine possession and a wild, inexorable hunger. Pleasure filled her body, rose through her veins, suffused her pores as he caressed her on every level, as he pushed her to *feel* as she'd never before felt, as he took her over. The peak was a slow climb, a shattering descent. Color exploded in a wild wave but she didn't break, floating with the tide to come home in Severus's arms.

He held her as her heart slowed, her skin sheened with a fine layer of perspiration. The primal heart of him, the part that urged him to possess her to the core, purred in silent satisfaction. She was his, would never be anyone else's. Stroking his hand down her body, he savored the jagged rise and fall of her chest, the low moans that caught in her throat as she reacted to his touch. When her hand rose to cup his cheek, he rubbed against her palm, his fingers tracing the passion-flushed curve of her mouth. Heavy-lidded eyes looked up at him, glowing softly with desire. "I think you've done me in, professor." "I've only just begun, witch."

Her words dried in her throat as he stripped away what remained of his clothing, wanting not even the slightest scrap between his flesh and her touch. Hermione's breath whooshed out of her. The full impact of him was… indescribable. Licking her lips, she curved her fingers around him, pumping, aware of his hand going to her hair again, of him wrapping the strands around his fist. "Enough teasing." A gentle nudge. Her skin went hot again, tight at the rough sexual tone of his demand, but she sent him a teasing smile, sending a whisper of air across his member. "Always giving orders."

"Hermione." Hearing the edge in that, suddenly violently aware of how long he had waited for her- and it was still a kick to the heart, that she was so clearly loved by him- she dipped her head further and ran her tongue over the vein that pulsed along the thick line of his arousal. He made an inarticulate sound of mingled pain and pleasure, his hand tugging slightly at her hair. Unable to resist now that she'd had a taste of him, her thighs clenching, retraced her journey and took him into her mouth. "Hermione!" She couldn't take all of him. He was too big, too thick.

'But I'll have decades to refine my technique.' The sensual thought blazed out on an inferno of need as she loved her ex-spy, licking and tasting and sucking. Brilliant white fire against her skin and she knew he was glowing, this lethal being she dared tease in the most intimate of ways. His response when it came, was starkly sensuous. 'Your mouth—' even his mental voice like sandpaper in her mind '-is a little piece of heaven and hell.'

Moaning low in her throat, she stroked up, swirled her tongue around the head before sliding her mouth back down the enticement that was his body. She loved the taste of him, the contrast of silk and steel, the way he murmured hot little promises of retribution. Under her hands, his muscles grew granite-hard, his skin sheened with heat. "Enough Hermione." A command. She let him feel her teeth. A crash of waves inside her mind, a wild storm. 'I am tying you to the bed next time,' he projected with no trace of civilized male left in him now.

Knowing he was close to the edge that another caress would tip him over, Severus stroked his hand down the sensitive arch of Hermione's back, sliding out of the sweet, hot prison of her mouth while she was distracted by the shock of sensation. But though her eyes glittered with the fever of their combined hunger, she didn't give in. lifting a single taunting finger, she sucked it between the kiss-swollen beauty of her lips. That was all the encouragement the voracious hunger inside him needed. Spreading through his veins, it took him over, a rippling black fire.

He returned to the bed in a dark wave of heat, flipping her back onto her front, pulling her legs up and spreading them wide. It was the rawest, most primitive way to possess a woman, but his witch pushed up on her elbows, gave him a challenging look, and said, "I'm waiting." He slid into her in a single hard thrust. Her scream echoed off the walls, but it was a scream that held equal parts demand and need.

Gripping her hips tight, he pulled out almost fully, then slammed back in. There was no mercy in him any longer, but Hermione didn't ask it from him, didn't want it. They quickly rose to the peak again together, and joyously jumped off it. And after the shockwaves slowly died down, he claimed her lips possessively, passionately, 'Forever,' in her head. 'I love you.' How she ever live without this, without him? She smoothed his sweat-dampened brow with her hand, thinking he never looked as beautiful as he did now. "I love you."

If you're gone- Hell, baby you need to come home

There's a little bit of something me

In everything in you

Everything in….. you.

**-The End-**

**A/N: **Ta da! What do you all think, worth the wait? This was my first HGSS longer than 2 pages and it took forever to type and post. So reviews definitely appreciated!


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